


The Bells of Notre Dame

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: Disney - Fandom, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Disney Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Genderbend Hunchback of Notre Dame, Religion, Romance, riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Up there, high, high in the dark belltower lives the mysterious bellringer..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bells of Notre Dame

_“Listen. They’re beautiful, no? So many colours of sound, so many changing moods. Because you know, they don’t ring all by themselves. Up there, high, high in the dark belltower lives the mysterious bellringer. Who is this creature? What is she? How did she come to be here? Well, Columbine will tell you. It’s a tale of a woman...and a monster..._

_“It began on a dark night, when four frightened gypsies slipped silently under the docks near Notre Dame. There were two women and a man, and a tiny wailing bundle._

_“Shut it up, will you?” one of the women hissed. “We’ll be spotted!”_

_“Hush, little one,” the man cooed, and the bundle quietened._

_“But a trap had been laid for the gypsies, for as they reached the docks, they gazed up in fear and alarm at a figure whose clutches were iron as much as the bells of Notre Dame. It was Judge Claudine Frollo, the woman renowned through Paris for her “high virtues” and her longing to purge the world of vice and sin. She saw corruption everywhere, except within._

_“Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice,” she ordered her guards._

_“You there!” One of them tried to snatch the bundle from the gypsy man’s hands. “What are you hiding there?”_

_“Stolen goods, no doubt,” Judge Frollo snapped. “Take them from him.”_

_He ran._

_Through the dark streets of Paris he was pursued by Frollo on her horse until he reached the cathedral and hammered on the door shouting “Sanctuary! Please, give us sanctuary!” Judge Frollo caught up with him and snatched hold of the bundle, knocking the poor man down. He cracked his head on the steps of Notre Dame and died almost instantly._

_Judge Frollo, uncaring, frowned as the bundle began to wail again._

_“A baby?” She saw the mark upon its face and gasped. “A monster!”_

_The child bore a mark on its face which in Frollo’s mind marked it out as one of God’s enemies, a daemon, a witch. And Frollo was not the kind to take pity on even a helpless child if she thought that it was filled with the sin of the devil, so she made to throw the baby into the well, when-_

_“Stop!” cried the Archdeacon._

_“This is an unholy daemon,” Frollo argued. “I’m sending it back to Hell where it belongs.”_

_“See here the innocent blood you have spilled on the steps of Notre Dame...”_

_“I am guiltless. He ran. I pursued.”_

_“Now you would add this child’s blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame...”_

_“My conscience is clear.”_

_“You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven’t a qualm. But you never can run from, nor hide what you’ve done from the eyes, the very eyes of Notre Dame.”_

_And, for one time in her life of power and control, Frollo felt a twinge of fear for her immortal soul._

_“What must I do?” she asked, reluctantly._

_“Care for the child,” the Archdeacon replied, picking up the dead man’s body to prepare it for burial. “And raise it as your own.”_

_“What?” Frollo was horrified. “I’m to be saddled with this misshapen-?” The Archdeacon gave her a look and she sighed. “Very well. But let her live here in your church.”_

_“Live here?” the Archdeacon repeated. “But where?”_

_“Anywhere. Just so she’s kept locked away where no one else can see...the belltower, perhaps, and who knows? Our Lord works in mysterious ways. Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be of use to me.”_

_And Frollo gave the child a cruel name, a name which in some languages means “half-formed” – Quasia._

_Now, here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the bells of Notre Dame; who is the monster and who the woman? Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells of Notre Dame...!”_

Morning broke over Paris, awakening the city as the bells rang out from Notre Dame cathedral. High up in the belltower, the young bellringer smiled to herself as she swung athletically down one of the bell ropes and landed neatly on her feet. Flicking her untameable auburn fringe out of her eyes, she smiled and skipped merrily out onto the balcony.

 

In the last seventeen years, Quasia had grown into a plain girl, the deformed mark that Frollo always referred to as “the Devil’s Kiss,” doing little to highlight any beauty she may have had, and her once baby blue eyes had turned to a dark green hue, like grass on a dark day. Her hair was always tamed back into two plaits, although her fringe was too short to be part of them and was consequently forever getting in her eyes, no matter how much she brushed it back. She was a little short for her age, but athletic, having learned how to be through her years of bell ringing in the tower. Her demeanour was generally bright and optimistic, and whatever else could be said about her face, she was blessed with a kind and good heart.

 

Hearing a twittering beside her, she turned to see a small bird that had been left inside the nest in a gargoyle’s mouth by its parents.

 

“Hello, there,” she smiled. “Ready to try and fly?” The bird made a doubtful sound and she scooped the tiny thing up in both hands. “No, today’s a good day to fly, there’s hardly any wind, and the sun’s out...you know, if I had your wings, I’d choose today to fly and never come back to this depressing place.” Perking up at that, the bird flapped its wings a little and manage to take off, hovering over her hands for a moment and then flying off into the distance. Quasia waved after it before sighing and leaning her arms on the balcony, her cheek propped on one hand as she stared down at the city streets below her. Soon, she knew, they would be bustling with life and music and dancing and all other forms of entertainment, as happened every year at this time.

 

And Quasia had only ever seen it from her window.

 

“I wish, more than anything, more than life, more than jewels...I wish to go to the festival,” she sang to herself.

 

“Puh! Pah!” Beside her, the gargoyle spluttered as he woke up and spat feathers and straw from his mouth. “Urgh, jeez! Has he finally gone? I thought he’d never leave!”

 

“Oh, look on the bright side, Hugo!” Another gargoyle, shorter and with scrawny arms, hopped down from the balcony beside Quasia. “We finally found a good use for your mouth!”

 

“Hey!” Hugo exclaimed, shaking his head.

 

“Laverne makes an excellent point,” said a third gargoyle, taller than the first two, coming to life on Quasia’s other side. “I’m sure Quasia would agree.”

 

“Oh, I see!” Hugo huffed. “Ganging up on me when I’ve got a bird in my mouth, huh?”

 

Quasia just sighed and left them to bicker as she made her way back indoors. The gargoyles, however, immediately noticed her change of mood and exchanged a glance before following her inside. Quasia sat down at her table where she had built a scale model of Notre Dame and the rest of Paris and all its citizens over the last seventeen years and fingered the small model of herself mournfully.

 

“Quasia, what is it, honey?” Laverne asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Where’s our usual happy girl?”

 

“Yeah, come to think of it, I haven’t seen her much around lately,” Hugo agreed.

 

Quasia sighed. “It’s just...I wish I could go to the festival, just once. I hate not being allowed to go outside.”

 

“So, go!” Hugo exclaimed, leaping onto the stool beside her. “Who says you can’t?”

 

“You know perfectly well who’s said she can’t,” Victor replied. “Judge Claudine Frollo.”

 

“He’s right,” Quasia sighed. “She’ll never give me permission to go.”

 

“So, don’t ask! Just go!” Hugo insisted, grabbing her hands and pulling her to her feet.

 

“You know, annoyingly, he’s right,” Laverne agreed. “Why should you always have to do what that old witch says?”

 

“Laverne!” Quasia reprimanded. “She’s not the witch, I am!”

 

“Pish-posh!” Victor snapped, hopping over to you. “Witches are ugly and evil and cruel by nature, and you, Quasia, are none of those things!”

 

Quasia raised a hand to her face, touching the mark. “I’m one of them.”

 

“No, you’re not, sweetie!” Laverne insisted. “You’re a good, kind, intelligent and beautiful girl! You’re our Quasia!”

 

Quasia tried to smile, because Laverne was always saying things like that to try and make her feel better. Hugo, meanwhile, had hopped off the stool and was rummaging around in a nearby trunk.

 

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, dragging an old cloak out from it. “The perfect disguise!”

 

“How is a ratty old cloak “the perfect disguise?” scoffed Victor.

 

“Because it covers her face! D’uh!” Hugo threw the cloak around Quasia’s shoulders. “See, sweetie, with this on, there’s no way Frollo’ll recognise you! Or anyone, for that matter!”

 

“Hm,” Victor mused, tapping his index finger to his chin. “Maybe there’s something in that after all.”

 

Quasia pulled the cloak off her. “Guys, come on. I couldn’t.”

 

“Yes, you could, honey,” Laverne insisted, hands on her hips. “In fact, you can and you’re going to. That’s an order.”

 

Quasia giggled. Laverne was so much like a mother to her, much more so that Frollo had ever been, that sometimes it was comical.

 

“You guys really think I can do it?” she asked.

 

“Sure!” Hugo exclaimed.

 

“Absolutely!” Laverne agreed.

 

“You simply must, Quasia,” Victor added, taking her hand in both of his. “You can’t just live your whole life inside this tower and just watch the festival from your balcony window every year! You’re young! You need to go out and live, even if it’s only for a day!”

 

Quasia nodded and then giggled, suddenly excited. “Ok! I’m going to do it!” The gargoyles grinned up at her. “I’m going to-!”

 

“Quasia!”

 

Quasia immediately jumped, as the three gargoyles turned quickly back into stone, and spun around to see Judge Claudine Frollo mounting the steps to the top of her tower. She quickly threw the cloak into a corner and hurried to meet her. Frollo frowned, contemptuously, at her.

 

“Who were you talking to just now?”

 

“Um...the gargoyles,” Quasia replied, truthfully, pointing to them.

 

Frollo didn’t look amused by any means. “Well, you always were an imaginative child,” she commented, seating herself at the table. Quasia immediately ran to set the plates and cups out as Frollo pulled out her Bible from the basket of bread, wine, grapes and cheese, the usual breakfast meal.

 

“Let’s review your alphabet, shall we?” she said. “A?”

 

Quasia shuddered and touched her cheek, repeating the name that Frollo had often called her in temper. “Abomination.”

 

“B?”

 

“Blasphemy.”

 

“C?”

 

“Corruption.”

 

“D?”

 

“Damnation.”

 

“E?”

 

“Eternal Damnation.”

 

“F?”

 

“Festival.” Quasia quickly clapped both hands over her mouth but the damage was done. “I-I-I mean...festering. Festering, that’s what I meant.”

 

“Festival?” Frollo narrowed her eyes at the young girl. “You weren’t thinking of asking if you could go, could you?”

 

“W-well, you go every year,” Quasia stammered. “I was just thinking that maybe I...”

 

“Quasia, I am a court official; I have no choice but to go to it every year. Do you think I _enjoy_ it?” Frollo scoffed. “Besides which, it’s out of the question. You know what they would call you if you set food out there, don’t you? Don’t you?” she prompted, harshly, when Quasia’s only answer was to duck her head and say nothing.

 

“A witch,” Quasia whispered.

 

“And?”

 

“An abomination.”

 

“And?”

 

“And a monster.”

 

Frollo smiled, slyly. “Child, I’m just thinking of you. Haven’t I been good to you all these years? Treated you like one of my own? Raised you here? Given you everything you could ever need?”

 

Quasia swallowed. “Yes, Mistress Frollo, you have, and I’m more than grateful.”

 

“Anyone else would have simply cast you aside when your Father simply abandoned you on the steps of the cathedral, but not me. I took you in. I _pitied_ you.” Quasia blinked back a few tears. She hated being reminded that no one had ever wanted her, and probably never would. “But those people out there; the gypsies and vermin and everyone else who is so corrupt and impure down there, they won’t take pity. They will hurt you. They will break you.” She closed her Bible, heavily, and got to her feet. “For your own safety, you will stay here.”

 

Quasia nodded. “Yes, Mistress Frollo.”

 

Frollo left, smiling to herself. The little creature there was so naive that she actually believed everything Frollo told her. It was imperative that she didn’t ever find out the truth about her Father, and imperative that she never reveal the truth of her existence to the outside world.

 

As long as she remained in the belltower, she was safe.

 

Quasia waited until she heard the door to the tower close and then sprang to her feet, suddenly feeling more determined than ever to get out.

 

“Atta girl,” Hugo crowed as she retrieved the cloak.

 

“But do be careful out there,” Victor added, patting her hand. “If Mistress Frollo discovers you’ve disobeyed her, well, I can’t imagine she’ll be too happy.”

 

Quasia nodded and threw the cloak around her shoulders. “I will be, Victor, and thanks. All of you.” She smiled at her three friends in deep fondness. “If it weren’t for you three, I probably would never have thought of-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, hurry up!” Hugo interrupted, thrusting her towards the balcony. “Sooner you get out there, the sooner you can come back and Frollo’s none the wiser!”

 

Quasia nodded and drew up the hood of her cloak, a burst of new energy and determination springing into her very being as she pulled herself onto the balcony and swung down the roof, nimble as any gypsy acrobat.

 

“Good luck, honey,” Laverne called after her. “You’re going to need it!”

 

Reaching the ground, Quasia looked back up at them, one hand keeping her hood in place, and waved before running off into the crowded streets and towards the very heart of the Feast of Fools.


End file.
